Baby Basics
by MacMhuirich
Summary: Tim is convalescing at home when Abby calls at his apartment and dumps a friends' baby for Tim to look after. Tim, Robin, Jethro & Abby.


Timothy McGee heaved a huge sigh of relief when he was finally able to lie down on his bed, taking great care not to jar his badly sprained ankle. On top of that injury, he also felt like crawling up the walls of his apartment with the whopping headache he was suffering.

Of course, he only had himself to blame for his current plight. If he'd got up at the first beep of his alarm, this morning, instead of snugging back into sleep again, he wouldn't have ended up home on sick leave.

* * *

><p><strong><em>*flashback*<em>**

By the time he woke up again, he was hopelessly late for work. How was he going to explain this to Gibbs? Sorry, Boss, I overslept? Yeah, that'll be the day!

He groaned.

So he had fed Jethro and rushed him out for walkies around the corner so his large Alsatian could relieve himself before heading back inside. He finished his morning toilette in record time, got dressed without ending up wearing non-matching socks or his shirt inside-out. Before he rushed out, he'd stuffed some crackers inside his mouth which nearly had him choking.

His car was still at the garage for its scheduled maintenance and so he was forced to break into a sprint to catch the metro.

The southeast bound metro stopped at the Navy Yard station. About to alight onto the platform, he was smiling with relief at having made excellent time.

Which reminded him... Adrianna, that Belgravian defense minister's daughter, had mentioned his readiness to participate at the marathon. His smile vanished as he remembered the protection detail and how it had eventually transpired she'd staged her own kidnapping all along...

That was the exact moment when the infamous Murphy's Law stepped in. He missed his footing and felt his ankle twist so badly his leg was swooped from under him and sent him crashing unceremoniously on the platform. His head smacked on the concrete so hard he swore he could feel his teeth rattle.

Stars... A Milky Way of twinkling little stars. That's what he saw before he blacked out.

**_*end flashback*_**

* * *

><p>He put the cold pack on his forehead, hoping to alleviate his headache until the Ibuprofen kicked in, and closed his eyes.<p>

What an infernal day!

At least it was nearly over and he could get some rest.

Jethro hopped onto the bed and, spending a while turning around and around to find the perfect position, lay down at Tim's feet.

And then, his cell chose to play its familiar ring tone.

He grunted and, putting the cold pack aside, he answered his phone.

"_Timmy? You home?_"

Of course... Abby.

"Abby. Where else would I be? Remember? My little accident this morning?"

"_Good!_" She hung up.

Good? What was so good about making a spectacle of himself at the metro station by keeling over like an idiot and hurting himself?

Oh God! That was not all. She sounded way too enthusiastic. He could just about see her hopping up and down on her platforms. Like some mad chicken. He frowned. What was she up to now? And, more importantly, why had she hung up on him like that?

The doorbell rang!

"Oh NO! For the love of God! Don't let that be Abby! Please – please – please..." Tim was praying fervently. That was so typical of her: calling him when she was already there on his doorstep.

If there was one thing or person he couldn't deal with at the moment, it was a hyper Abby!

He slowly got up from his bed and shuffled towards the living room, to be followed by a curious Jethro.

Apparently he wasn't fast enough, for Abby had already opened the door herself and let herself in. She left something near the kitchen counter before barging further into the room, nearly running over Tim as he limped out of his bedroom.

"Oh, hey Timmy!"

He winced. Her voice was much too loud for his poor head.

"Abby, please. Voice down. By the way: how did you get in so fast? Got some lock-picking training from Ziva?"

"Hey. I still have a key to your apartment, remember?"

Only now did she look him up and down and noticed he was wearing pyjamas. He rarely wore those, unless he was sick.

"You were sleeping already?"

"Resting, Abby. Or trying to." He muttered as he leaned, arms crossed, against the door frame, taking the weight off his bad ankle.

"Well, never mind. You're awake now. Besides, it's not like you won't be able to sleep when the baby is."

Did he hear that correctly? _Baby_? _What _baby?

He pushed himself off the door frame and squinted at her inquisitively.

"Abby?" He questioned her, his voice dangerously soft.

She skipped over to the counter where she'd left the carrycot. Tim slowly made his way over there, too, and peeked at the small face of a sleeping infant.

Inside, he felt his heart melt at the sight, all warm and mellow, and at the same time butterflies to mark his nervousness.

"Isn't he a cutie-cutie-cutie?" She looked up at Tim and there was something in her eyes he hadn't seen before. He saw a different Abby altogether and it threw him for a loop. It lasted only a moment and then...it was gone.

In a flash, she became all business like.

She dropped the bag she was carrying on her shoulder on the table and started unpacking...baby stuff.

Tim could only look on. What was she up to, now?

Next she produced what looked like a shopping list; a scribbled note which she spread on the table before looking Tim in the eye again.

"Here's a to-do list. I know you have no experience with babies, McGee, but you're a clever guy and you'll sure figure it all out."

He rolled his eyes. When would she come to the point.

But then he gulped. Oh! Wait a minute! Noooo... No way! She was not going to leave that...that...kid at his place and make a run for it? Was she? Was SHE?

He turned livid.

"Abby..."

"Timmy: meet Robin! His mom and dad are at a wedding party. I was asked to babysit. I love babies. But I got a call from Gibbs: there's a situation. Well, a case needs my immediate attention. So Robin'll have to stay with you for tonight."

She was in a hurry and in her quick manner explained how he should change the diapers - "Remember it's a boy, McGee.", bottle feed, ... Tim's mind was in a whirl, not quite catching everything she was telling him to do.

Suddenly, she checked her watch.

"Oh look at the time! Must go! Sorry, Timmy. Bye-bye, Robin-cutie-cutie! I'll pick him up in the morning! Make sure he's okay. I'm counting on you, McGee."

She gave Tim a quick peck on his cheek and then, she was gone.

"Hey...HEY! Wait! Abbyyy!" He tried to stop her, hold her, but he was too late. She'd already stomped out the front door and was already halfway down the stairs.

He closed the door behind her with a frustrated sigh. Oh how he could just hate her! Curse her and her last minute plans!

But then he remembered what she'd said about Gibbs calling her and he relented. One consolation, though: there was nobody around to witness his burst of anger and subsequent red faced shame.

He made his way over to where Abby had left the carrycot and contemplating the sleeping Robin, he felt the fear building in his stomach at what would surely turn out to be an intimidating experience.

Oh dear God! Now he was stuck with this little babe. He'd never looked after a child this young. Sure he'd looked after his sister, but that was different. Besides, she was already a little older by the time he was babysitting her.

He took a deep breath trying to shake the building panic, his head swarming with all things that could go wrong. What if the kid got affected by sudden infant death syndrome whilst in his care? He ran his fingers over his scalp looking this way and that, deciding what to do. Finally, he settled with picking up the carrycot and take it to his bedroom where he put it on the bed as he prepared to lie down beside it. He was not going to trust the baby out of his sight.

Jethro, again, hopped onto the bed but this time lay on the other side of the baby.

Tim lay there for a long time before sleep finally claimed him.

Not for long, though.

A sound jerked him from his slumber and he slowly opened his eyes, wondering what it was.

He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to shake off the cobwebs of sleep.

Cries! A crying baby? Oh yeah. Baby. BABY! Baby Robin. Aarrrghhhh...Abby!

In no time, the wailing became a pulsing crescendo of an intensity that caused his ears to ring rather unpleasantly.

The boy definitely had a fine pair of lungs to make Tony green with envy!

Bleary eyed, Tim made himself get up, walk around his bed and stoop to ever so gently raise the little guy from the cot.

Pfew! What's this smell!

He brought his nose closer to the small bundle and the smell made him crinkle his nose.

"Well, someone needs a fresh diaper."

Holding the babe in the crook of his right arm, he walked over to the overnight bag Abby had left behind and dug out the folded nappy change.

Tim checked the list. He rummaged through the bag to find all he needed to change the baby and soon, had the kid cleaned with wipies.

With a feeling of accomplishment, he shoved a clean diaper under the baby's little bottom. As he was about to close it, a happily gurgling Robin chose the opportune moment to pee in an arc...and dead center on Tim's pyjamas.

Tim looked down his front, both surprised and sad. Then he raised his rolling eyes to the ceiling. This boy's aim was surely true.

"You'll make a hell of a Federal Agent, one day." Tim murmured sarcastically.

He took a new Huggie and, covering boy's genitals with a tissue to avoid another dousing, succeeded in getting the baby changed.

He put the happy baby back in its flat carrycot and quickly dashed into the bathroom to change himself into a fresh pair of pyjamas. Feeling better, he went back to his side of the bed and scooted under the duvet.

2am and it was about time for the nightly bottle and Robin made sure Tim heard! Fighting his way to the waking world, Tim wondered again at the pair of lungs this boy has!

Tim tossed the duvet off his, by then, warm body, got up and dragged himself to the kitchen to warm up the bottle, unable to stop the fit of yawning. Abby's list mentioned he should check for the right temperature by squirting some drops of the milk on the inside of his wrist.

Robin certainly took his time feeding! Was the nipple right? Perhaps the hole was too small for Robin's liking? The slow milk flow proved a genuine test of Tim's patience. A moment longer, and Tim would've been the one having fallen dead asleep.

K. Bottle finally empty. So what's next?

He held the baby up and glanced to the side, reading the note Abby left for him to deal with wee Robin.

Ah! Of course! The burp!

Tim lifted the boy a little higher so that Robin's tummy was against Tim's shoulder. Tim patted the baby on the back and this action elicited the expected burp of burps. Except... Tim had forgotten to lay a towel over his shoulder and, oh surprise, he felt the puke dripping down his neck. He winced.

Oh no. Oh nonono-nooooo...

Another visit to the bathroom to change. No more pyjamas. Just the boxers and an old faded T-shirt.

Robin, though, was fretful and he soon became Mr Cranky. No problem at all for his lungs to keep up the wailing. Tim's ears, and by now frayed nerves, on the other hand...

Tim grunted and heaved himself upright. He took Robin from his cot and gently propping him up to his own chest and keeping him there, ever so carefully rocked the baby. His mind was a'whirl with frightening thoughts of shaken baby syndrome.

He suddenly remembered a nursery rhyme and, first clearing his throat, started singing. The boy didn't mind that Tim's voice was a little scratchy and trembly from weariness as he lay in Tim's arms, looking up at his face with big blue eyes. Then, the babe's crying petered out and, with bated breath, Tim laid little Robin back in the cot.

The baby's crankiness, though, had Tim in and out of bed all night long. Tim rocked and sang and rocked and sang some more, limping around in his apartment or sitting down in his chair. Other times, he simply lay in bed, leaning back against the headboard. But every time Tim's eyes finally fell closed when the baby seemed to have gone to sleep, Robin valiantly set off on another concert.

By the first light, though, Tim was truly worn out. The baby's wails were getting too loud for his aching head and, his nerves by now in tatters, Tim's body could no longer cope with the bawling.

After he'd bottle fed Robin, taking great care with the boy's burps, and having put some new diapers on, Tim sang the baby back to sleep. He trudged into the kitchen, dirty nappy in hand and deposited it in the bin.

The headache was back with a vengeance and his body trembled with weariness. He made it back to his bedroom and took extreme care not to wake the sleeping infant as he lay down.

Jethro sniffed at Tim's face and gave it a lick. When he got no reaction from his master, the dog gave a short bark. When even that didn't work, Jethro made up his mind hopped on the bed and rubbed up against Tim, at the same time making sure not to disturb the child in its cot.

That's how Abby found the three occupants of Tim's apartment when she came to collect little Robin later that morning.

Robin sound asleep.

Tim dead to the world.

Jethro still in doggy land, his head resting on Tim's chest.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Some time after this, during a case at Quantico Marine Base.<em>**

The team were investigating the murder of two Marine wives and Gibbs and Tim were interviewing another young Marine wife who had made the gruesome discovery of her friends' bodies.

Before long, Tim found himself with the baby thrust in his hands. After his misadventure, he hadn't been thinking holding an infant, and yet, here he was: holding a crying baby against his chest.

"She just needs her bottle." The young woman said.

The baby dangling from his hands, Tim attempted to soothe it but then held it at arm's length. "Look, look. Your mom's right there. She's right there."

Gibbs, who'd sensed Tim's discomfort asked the question Tim had dreaded. "Did you ever hold a baby before, McGee?"

What was he going to reply to that? Should he tell his boss or not? If he replied in the affirmative, would Gibbs dare leave the child in his charge? He would...wouldn't he?

So he lied. "No." Luckily Gibbs wasn't really looking at him, or he'd found one slightly guilty and embarrassed Agent McGee. Instead, Gibbs took the child from Tim and hushed it.

"I didn't think so. Shh…"

FIN


End file.
